


The Will of a Mind

by RadioBuzz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Apocalypse, End of the World, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not As Dark As The Tags Make It Sound, Psychological Trauma, Zombies, evolved humans, insane character, protective character, superhumans, well not really zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 16:58:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14815275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioBuzz/pseuds/RadioBuzz
Summary: Ethen Warner is a cop and has been for years. He can admit that he has seen some pretty odd cases, but none of them compare to the day he finds a young asylum escapee named Theophelea stumbling down the highway. The young girl's words all begin to line up when mysterious symptoms spread through the earth's population. Before anyone can even realize what has happened the world has ended, and all Ethen has left is a woman who's not who she says she is and a doctor who does nothing but lie. The entire world is hunting them down along with a stranger who takes every opportunity to go after Theophilia. Ethen needs to protect Theophilia, everyone's going after her and she seems to be the only one who knows what is happening,And what is going to happen.





	1. Chapter 1

     “Close your eyes, count to ten, and think of all the good things”.

 

     New York City is a rough place. Hundreds of thousands of people fill the streets daily, coming and going anywhere as they please. Some bad, some good, some in suits, some in rags. They all want to live. Thugs in every alley, stealing when they can and dealing drugs. Drugs. It's always drugs. They are everywhere. And the people that do them think they are so clever. Like leaving the city means it's okay. It doesn't help anything if they are still right outside the front door. This is what Ethen Warner was thinking as he arrested Triton Atlas for the fourth time this year.

     “Common man! Can't you give me a break? Just this once” About a thirty-minute drive away from the city is an old house. Not too rundown, but no one lives there nonetheless. Despite no one living there, two men were walking out of it. The one in front has shaggy, dirty-blond hair reaching down to his shoulders. A dirty, red, checkered shirt, four sizes too large for him, and a baggy pair of jeans were the only things currently covering him. He looked like the cliche thirty-year-old bum. His arms were drawn tightly behind his back and his wrists were adorned with handcuffs. 

     The man behind him, Ethen, sighed heavily. “How about you do us both a favor and quit the drugs. Do I even need to tell you your rights again Triton?” The second man wore a blue uniform recognizable by all Americans. His brown hair was neatly gelled to the side, matching his overall appearance. Neat and precise. The complete opposite of the man, Triton, in front of him. “If you are going to do something illegal at least try next time. Duck your head”.

     Triton huffed but willingly bent over and climbed into the police car. He waited as Ethen walked around before replying. “How do you know there is going to be a next time?” he challenged the man as he climbed in front of him. 

     A sharp, sarcastic laugh could be heard from the handsome officer. “Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question? You do realize the station has your grandmother on speed-dial?” Neither question needed a response, but Warner knew he was going to get one anyway. 

     “Hey”, the currently high man in the back leaned forward. “Don’t talk about gran. If you do then I will just bring up your dead wife”, he stuck up his chin as if he had already won the conversation.

     Warner had to take a second to make sure he had heard correctly. “My dead wife?” a low hum came from the back seat. He turned around to look the drug addict straight in the eye. “Triton, how high are you right now?” Warner had never been married, making it impossible to have a dead wife. The handcuffed man shook his head and huffed again. “The drugs are up here now, you can stop puffin”, he held up the small bag.

     “No man, you’re a cop. You have the serious face and the no-nonsense type of crap goin’ on”, Warner glanced back in the rear-view mirror, already having a feeling of where this is going. “I have seen this in, like, every cop movie ever. You obviously had a wife - and probably a young daughter - that died in an accident or something. Now you’re haunted by your past and try to forget your mistakes by drinking them away”, eyes closed and a nod was the finish to the slurred statement. 

     Very high. Triton was very, very high. That’s what Ethan Warner decided as he pulled out of the driveway of the old house and began to make his way back to the city. 

 

     A few hours earlier a young girl sat in the center of the floor with her legs spread out in front of her. Tapping the soft padded ground was one of the two things she was doing. Most of the taps were soft, but every couple of minutes they would spaz and jerk, twitching at the wrist. The second movement was her head that shook back and forth in a ‘No’ like fashion. Not to anything in particular, at least, not to anything anyone else saw. But that is all she has done today. All day long, tapping the ground and shaking her head. Back and forth, back and forth. Her hands spazzed again, smacking at the ground with her fingers.

     Today had been a bad day. Worse than most of the others. And when the girl started a high pitched whine, the boy in the corner couldn't help but wonder if today was _ the _ day. For hours he has stood there. Not saying anything, not even moving. The girl knew he was there, somewhere, vaguely, she knew. It was in the back of her mind, or in the middle, maybe to the side, it didn't really matter. The knowledge wandered around just like every other piece of information. But that knowledge did no good to her panicked little head. Last night was terrible.

     Bright lights. Shot. Shot. Shot. Shot. Can’t move. He’s there. He’s always there with shot waiting for her. Coming for her. The man. The man with the shot. It’s not shot though, it’s worse than shot. It hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. It’s dark. Flash. The things are back. The things are always there. Always coming. Tremble. Tremble. Tremble. The things are coming. Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.

     The boy in the corner sighed as the girl’s whining turned into mumbling. He could have once done something, something to help. But he passed that up, and now there is nothing he could do. They didn’t understand, none of them did. He tried to blame it on them, especially on one man in particular, but he knew this was partly his fault too.

     The girl was innocent and sound when she got here. So much information that could save them if they only listen. But now it’s hard to tell the real information from the random pieces that have broken off from the sides of her brain.

     Her brain. Such a strong thing. Now in shambles, because of _him._ _He_ is not even a **man,** _he_ is an **it**. The boy can barely even think about **it** without his vision going red. Red is a nice color. The boy likes to imagine **it** covered in red. Pouring out of **it** at any and every place the boy chooses. 

     He was tempted to hit the wall, or laugh. Maybe even both. He knew better than to do either of those things though. The girl has had a bad day. Startling her is the last thing he wants to do. So there he stood, in the corner, watching the lost little mind in the center of the floor spiral. 

     And there she sat. Hands slowly spazzing more and more. Mumbling words too low to be properly heard by anyone else. No one else knew what she knew, saw what she saw. The things are coming. Violent things. Scary things. The humans must live.

     Tremble. Tremble. Tremble.


	2. Chapter 2

      The ride back was supposed to only be thirty minutes, but to Warner, it felt like forever. Tritan just never seemed to stop talking. Endlessly going on about how it’s not his fault he ended up like this, but his dad’s fault for abandoning him. “I had no one to guide me”, Triton whined. Excuses. Warner ignored him, knowing full well that Mr. Atlas was there until Triton was twenty-three. The only grace the officer got was the fact that it was two-thirty in the afternoon. Everyone is at work leaving the roads mostly clear. 

      “All I ever wanted to do was play ball with my dad but he-” Warner sighed when he realized Triton was going to attempt to stick with the story he’s got. What an idiot. His grandmother should just leave him in jail this time. Let him think about his actions in a cell for a bit.

      For a while, after Warner was able to block out the addict in the back, he was able to have a mildly peaceful car ride. Afterall, it  **was** a nice day. There were only a couple of clouds in the distance, but even those were thin and wispy. Sure, Triton might have been annoying, but he would rather take Triton any day over dealing with the other issues the station is facing. The assault rate has suddenly been increasing. Just this morning three people were attacked. All three in different parts of the city and unprovoked. One was even in critical condition. People are ridiculous sometimes.

      Speaking of ridiculous people, in the distance, he could see someone walking along the side of the road with their arms out beside them. They were dressed odd, a big red raincoat reaching down to the middle of their thighs and matching red rain boots. It hasn't rained for about two weeks though. His first thought was a hitchhiker, but as he got closer he noticed that something was… Well, he didn't know what to call it. Straight raven hair touched her shoulder blades, the closer he got, the bluer her hair looked. Yet it was still natural. 

      She was walking the same direction he was going, but her feet always pointed inward and her toes dragged against the ground. For a moment Warner feared she was passing out, with her stumbling and rocking like walk, but she never collapsed. And now that he was closer he could see that her hands, which are stretched as far away from her body as they could go, were shaking viciously. Not in fear, it seemed too intentional. 

      So Warner’s second thought was drugs. That is all he needs, another person too high to function. Despite his irritation, he knew he couldn't just leave her stumbling down the side of the road. She still seemed to be a kid, fifteen, maybe fourteen at the **least** . He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he saw her body come in in one of the morgues. 

      When he pulled up next to her, he expected her to stop or at least react in some type of way. Neither one of those things did she do though, didn't even spare a glance. Her stumbling didn’t slow down or speed up. Is she even aware he is there?

      “That chic overdosed on somethin’ man, she ain't right”, Warner glanced back, just now remembering that there was a man already in the back. He would have to put the girl together with Triton.

      Not even bothering replying, he stepped out of the car. Now with no door blocking the girl from him, he could faintly hear her saying something. “Hey”, he expected the girl not to respond, but she quickly spun around at his single word. Reflexively his hand went to his waist as she began to approach him. 

      “Tremble. Tremble. Tremble. Tremble”, her voice was light and airy, and the same word repeated over and over on her lips in a small mumble. But that wasn't the scariest thing. Her face left him shaken. 

      Now, let's keep this clear. The young girl was not ugly in any sort of way. She was clean, and sure the ladybug boots and large, unbuttoned, red raincoat might have been strange, but it wasn't ugly. Ethen Warner has just never seen anyone so pale. It almost seemed she has never seen the sun before this day. Pure white skin. Her hair is a bluish ravine so that cancels out the possibility of albinism. If he didn’t know any better he would consider the possibility of a ghost. 

      She continued walking toward him despite the weapon under his hand. He needs to see if she can think straight. “Ma'am, can you tell me what you are doing out here?” the only response was the continued mumbling.

      “Tremble. Tremble. Tremble”.

      The young girl doesn't seem dangerous. She stopped in front of Warner. Her eyes focused for a moment on his face. And...and now she’s hugging him. This is weird. “Um, kid, I am going to need you to step back”, he got no acknowledgment for his words. Now that she is right on him she looked even smaller than before. The top of her head only reached his mid-chest, and before he couldn’t tell with the huge raincoat covering her, but when she hugged him he could tell she was thin. Altogether she seemed fragile, both in mind and body. He feels he has to be careful pulling her off of him. “Hey, you need to-?” the moment he placed a hand on her shoulder she stepped back. She was looking at his face again, but now her eyes were unfocused. She was no longer there. 

      The raven began to walk away, this time in the opposite direction of the city. “Tremble. Tremble. Tremble”, her airy voice continued with the delicate yet ominous words. Well, Warner can’t just let her wander off, especially now that he has seen first hand her state of mind.

      The brunette quickly reached forward and carefully grabbed her arm before she got too far. Maybe something happened. Why else would she be wandering around on the side of the highway? Has there been an accident around here? “Hey, did something happen? Is anyone hurt?” a young girl can’t just be out here all by herself. As an officer, he is seeing way too many red flags with this situation. 

      Once again he got no response other than the same words the girl has been repeating this entire time. He needs to just bring her back to the station. Then he will figure out what to do from there. Slowly, Warner guided the red-clad ghost to the car. Triton was probably getting antsy at this point. Crap, he forgot about Triton. 

      The second the officer began to put her in the back seat the druggy started making a fuss. “No way man! She ain’t coming back here with me! There’s somethin’ wrong with that chic! Somethin’ loose in the attic or somethin’!” Why does he have to always be so difficult? “Look at her! Look at her man! She’s starin at me!” 

      “Of course she’s staring at you. You’re yelling”, the brunette sighed. He looked back at the girl. She  **was** focused on Tritan, but it was only for a moment before she was gone again. Are drugs still a possibility? “Now stop whining, you are going to make her feel bad. Just ignore her if you need to”, even if she is not all there, it’s still rude to talk about her like that. Teenage girls are always upset so easily. She can’t be too different, right?

      On the way back Warner decided it would be best reporting the girl in before he got to the station. He picked up the little black radio. “Hey, Diane, are you there?” he only had to wait a few seconds for the woman on the other side to answer.

      “Yeah, I’m here. What is wrong? Is Triton giving you trouble?” Diane always sounds so bored when she talks. No one has ever once seen her make any facial expression that does not say ‘I can kill you in eight different ways, right now’.

      Despite the disinterested tone, he went on to answer her question. “Other than general annoyance? No-”

      “Heard that”.

      The officer made the easy decision of ignoring him. “But as I was coming back, another problem came up”, he finished.

      “Oh really? What is it?” If Warner hadn’t known her for so long he would be wondering if she was actually curious. In the rearview mirror, he could see the ghost just sitting there, absently staring at nothing as she endlessly mumbled and her hands continued to spaz. Triton was trying to get as far away from her as he could by squishing himself up against the door.

      Dianne will understand, she has been in this career far longer than Ethan has. She has probably even seen stranger things. “I found a girl stumbling along the side of the road. She doesn’t seem to be all...there. I don’t know how else to describe it”, he didn’t want to call her mental or crazy, and the thought of that little, pale face doing drugs made him sad. 

      For several minutes there was no response. He began to wonder if he was actually going to get a one. His wait wasn’t too long though. “Is she pale?”

      “Yeah”.

      “And her hair almost look blue?”

      “Yeah, that's right”.

      In the background, it sounded like there were several other people talking. One voice was louder than the others, more urgent. None of it was clear, it would be impossible to understand what they were saying over the radio like this. The radio cut off for another few minutes before Diane came back. “Has she told you her name yet?”

      Asking would have been futile. The girl hasn’t said anything other than ‘tremble’ the entire time. “No, I don’t think she-”

      “Theo”.

      It was almost like a scene out of a horror movie. One moment she was sitting back, quietly mumbling to her heart's content. Suddenly her voice was right behind his head. Warner slammed down on the brakes, sending the girl flying into the metal barrier. Once he was able to calm down he felt bad. The girl was holding her head, he should have put her seatbelt on. He closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. Once he dealt with his guilt he looked back to figure out the situation. “Did you say, um, Theo?” 

      In a soft voice, so airy it seemed it could blow away, she responded with, “Theo”. He couldn’t tell if she was just repeating him or answering his question.

      The brunette decided to rephrase his wording. Maybe she just didn’t understand what he was asking. “Is that your name?” And as an after thought, “Theo?” 

      Her hands slipped from her head and began to quickly tap the seat. She leaned forward again. “You call me Theo”, it didn’t sound like a demand, more like she was stating a well-known fact.

      The officer didn't take his eyes off of her as he raised the radio up to his mouth. It has been a long time since he has felt fear, but here he is, scared because of a child. The only thing is, he is not scared  **of** her but  **for** her. “She is claiming the name, Theo. Ring any bells?” at this point he wasn’t sure if he wanted anyone else to know about this. If Diane recognized the name then it means this is bigger than drugs. 

      The next pause was longer than the other two. The anticipation was building up inside of him. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he needed to. It came way too soon, yet not soon enough. “This morning sixteen-year-old Theophilia Darling disappeared from her room in the Serenity Gardens Psychiatric Institute. Her doctor is here now saying that she  **does** respond to Theo. He says she can not be left alone due to multiple psychological brain disorders. Including, but not limited to, schizophrenia, dependent personality, and pragmatic communication disorder”. Warner’s breath seemed to disappear and he looked back at the girl - now named Theophilia. 

      Theophilia, the little girl walking down the highway. Theophilia, with a voice like the wind. Theophilia, with the list of mental disorders. Theophilia, the asylum escapists.


End file.
